


Training With Athos

by endersgamer



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:29:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25919608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endersgamer/pseuds/endersgamer
Summary: A young woman moves into vacant rooms at his lodging house.  She is mysterious, beautiful and clever.  And she's hiding a secret.  Will Athos be able to resist a woman who seemed to be his equal in every way?
Relationships: Athos | Comte de la Fère & Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	1. The girl next door

She had taken vacant rooms in the building where he lodged. Alone. This, in itself was noteworthy. What else was noteworthy was that she was beautiful, well dressed, and carried herself in a manner entirely perplexing to him. That is to say, she carried herself exactly as he did--as a soldier. She was keenly aware of her environment at all times. She carried at least one weapon. She portrayed herself as aloof and indifferent, but the lines of her body were anything but. Her clothing was feminine but cut in a way that allowed for freedom of movement should she need it. She was, in a word, fascinating.

He saw her several times as they passed in the halls of their lodging house, or the tavern below their rooms where she often took a meal alone. She sat with her back to a wall, seeming oblivious to what was going on around her, as expected from a respectable lady, but he knew she was not. She was wound like a spring and ready to strike. One hand on the hilt of a knife, the other casually picking at her meal. She would occasionally greet him with a knowing smile, or a slight incline of her head, but made no other attempt to become acquainted.

One evening he rounded a corner and saw her sitting on the steps to their lodgings upstairs. It was a warm evening, thus her reason for being outdoors. What caught his eye most was that she sat by a lamp reading. A book. He stopped in the shadows to watch her. This was singular as most women did not read, nor write and would likely not do publicly. She was biting her thumb a bit and smiling at the words on the page. The lamp light illuminated her face and caused her hair to shine like copper. He couldn’t explain why, but he was drawn to this image of her and could have stayed transfixed for hours.

He, however, was not afforded this chance. Just then two, likely drunk, men approached her. “Hey lady. Put the damn book down. It’s not attractive to see a woman reading.” She slowly closed her book and looked up. “Leave me be.” she said, voice icy and strong. “Women should not read, they have other duties to attend to. For one, keeping house. And for another, warming a man’s bed. Why don’t you show me to your rooms and I’ll show you what a proper woman should do.” He leered as she stood. 

“Please back away from me, or I shall make you.” She said. The men laughed at her and the instigator reached out to grab her wrist. She looked at where his hand was wrapped around her small arm. Before Athos even had time to react, she pulled the man forward, swept his leg with her own, turned him on his front and pulled his arm between his shoulder blades while her knee was pressed into his back. He was crying out in pain. “My arm! My fucking arm!” “Touch me again and I will break it.” she hissed in his ear. His companion lunged forward, but she rolled away into a graceful crouch and unsheathed her knife in seconds. He tried to grab for her, but she spun him around, pushed him to the wall and held the knife to his low back. “One more move and this knife will pierce your kidney. You will bleed out slowly and painfully. Choose wisely.” She pushed away from him, grabbed her book and disappeared down an alley. The two men were staggering to their feet and running away as Athos approached. He walked into the alley to find her, but she had vanished.

Athos was lying in bed when he heard her enter her own rooms later that night. He reflected on what he witnessed. He was intrigued and, to his own surprise, quite aroused. He rolled over with a groan and fell asleep.


	2. A lesson in fighting

The next morning, Athos walked from his rooms just as she was exiting her own. She had turned to the door to lock it and he stealthily came up behind her. She turned just as he grabbed her arms and pinned her wrists to the door behind her. She struggled and nearly managed to break free before she relaxed. “Oh. It’s you.” she said, sounding relieved. “And what makes you think I won’t hurt you?” he asked. “Because I won’t let you.” Was her reply. He suddenly became incredibly aware of her warm body pressed to his from hip to chest, and the faint smell of her perfume. He was torn between pushing her away or grinding into her. She stood perfectly still while he debated. He let go of her and stepped back.

“I apologize for grabbing you thus. I am Athos.” he said with a slight bow. “And I am Mirabelle.” with her own small bow. She was clearly educated and seemed high born. “Mirabelle”, he said, tasting her name on his tongue, “where did you learn to fight like that?” “You saw me? You watched?” She asked, with accusation in her eyes. “I was across the road when they approached. I would have intervened, but it became evident that there was no need. I admire your fighting style. Will you show me? Will you train with me?” He asked. She looked surprised before schooling her features. “Yes, if you would like. Outside of Paris though. There are fields to the west of here where we will have adequate room and will likely not hurt one another as much. There is a grove of trees to the left of the road one mile out. Cut through those trees and you will find me. I will meet you there this afternoon?” He smiled a small smile and nodded. He found himself looking forward to sparring with her.

After spending the morning at the garrison, he was itching to get out of the city. There was little to do so he excused himself from his friends and rode out of the city gates. He found the fields just as she had described. She was there, working with a sword, looking simply stunning in the sunlight. He would have admired her longer but she had heard him approach and nodded in greeting. “Hello Athos. Are you ready for this?” she said teasingly. Oh, he was going to enjoy this, he knew already. 

As he approached, she unbuckled a belt at her waist and her skirts fell away. She stood in tightly fitted black leather breeches like his, supple and soft and hugging her strong hips and thighs deliciously. He stood stunned, so she took the opportunity to sweep his legs, landing him flat on his back knocking the wind out of him. She stood over him, gorgeous blue eyes gazing down at him. “Don’t get so easily distracted.” Then she reached her hand out to help him up. Instead, he pulled her down and rolled over her trying to pin her. She was quick and strong. They rolled over a few times, grappling until he was on top.

“So, a woman who can fight. Why?” He asked, peering down from above her. “My father wanted a son. A musketeer, to be precise. Disappointed I turned out female, he decided he would make me one anyway.” She responded. He nodded and she then she shifted beneath him, got enough leverage to push off her feet and dislodge him. The fight continued for another quarter of an hour before she had him pinned beneath her, her hair falling in loose curls around her face, her eyes bright and her breath coming in gasps. 

“Do you yield?” she asked. He knew he could probably gain the upper hand but decided they could both use a rest. He nodded and she stood up. He missed feeling her over him, thighs caging his hips. Where did that come from? He wondered. Then he stood and she handed him a flask. He raised his eyebrow at her and smiled. “I think I might enjoy training with you.” She threw back her head and laughed. 

When they had cooled enough, they walked side by side to their horses. He was going to offer her a leg up, but she deftly and gracefully mounted her beautiful horse. He was impressed. He mounted as well and they rode side by side back to the city. At one point, she broke into a gallop and looked over her shoulder in challenge. He spurred Roger on and they raced the last ½ mile. They arrived back in the city tired, sweaty and with smiles plastered to their faces. They parted having made arrangements to train again in a few days time. 

That night he heard her enter her rooms and move about. He knew he shouldn’t. He was ashamed he did. He couldn’t help himself. He took himself in hand and thought about how her strong legs felt wrapped around his hips as they wrestled in the field.


	3. A battle lost

The next time Mirabelle and Athos met in the field, they chose long swords to train with. He first asked to see her weapon and she handed it over for his inspection. He turned it over in his hand and swiped it through the air a few times. It was lighter than his, slightly shorter and beautifully made. He admired it for a bit and decided it suited her perfectly. He handed it back with a nod. Then he backed up, unsheathed his own sword and they began. He was delighted to discover that although she was not his equal in swordfighting, he would not be worried for her safety nor ashamed to fight by her side should he need to. She was quick, resourceful and flexible. What she lacked in strength, she made up in speed and strategy. 

While they were sparring, they talked a bit. He mentioned that she seemed...out of place in a boarding house in Paris all alone. She said she was on a journey of self discovery. She opened up a bit more as the morning progressed. “I was born a Lady. Lady Mirabelle de Lasandre. I have an estate south of Paris.” Her parents were alive, and her father encouraged her to strike out on her own and make a life. She had adequate money to survive, but hoped to find a living somehow, knowing that was near impossible. He asked why she was unmarried. She didn’t take kindly to that line of questioning and smacked him with the broadside of her sword. He managed to get behind her and knocked her to the ground. There he wrestled the sword from her hand and held her down, pinning her hands near her head.

“I merely asked because you are both lovely and clever. A man would be lucky to have you.” He explained. She glared up at him through her lashes. 

“Have me, yes. Like a statue, or a trophy to look pretty, keep me in a gilded cage and take me out to play. No thank you. I would rather spend my life alone.” She said through gritted teeth. He had clearly hit a nerve.

His first thought was to protest, but then he realized that although he admired her for her strength, independence and intelligence, many men would be put off. The thought of her keeping this passion, this strength, locked away made him sad for her. His face betrayed his distracting train of thought. She suddenly got a pained look on her face and he immediately released her and leaned away. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, voice laced with worry. She used his concern for her against him by flipping him over again, kneeling over him, her arms holding his down across his bicep. He felt her thighs flexing, her muscles pulled taut and her hair falling from her loose bun around his face. She leaned towards his ear and spoke. “Allowing your mind to wander like that could get you hurt, or worse, killed Athos.” She was absolutely right, he was distracted. He rarely fought with women under any circumstance and associated this close proximity to a woman to entirely different circumstances. It was...confusing. Mirabelle stood suddenly, grabbed her weapon from the ground, picked his up and threw it to him hilt first and stood ready to fight. He shook himself out of it and got his head back into training.

After he returned a few days later from a skirmish, they met again in the field. He had thought about her, more than he wanted to admit and he was eager to get back and continue what they had started. He suggested hand-to-hand combat and she smiled. Her skirts and weapons fell away with one flick of her hand on her belt, and she stood before him in a dark green blouse, black fitted leather trousers and soft black boots. She looked radiant. 

They wrestled for a good ½ hour before either of them was able to pin the other. She, however, drew first blood. She managed to flip him onto his front, knelt on his low back, and leaned down to his ear chuckling. 

He could feel her warm breath tickle his skin before she said, teasingly, “Oh, I think I prefer this position. I could spank you, if I wanted. Is that what you want?” He squirmed beneath her and gasped as the weight...no, the promise of her words washed over him. Her confidence, her passion when she fought and moved, and her warm body pressed against his caused his body to overrule his control. He didn’t know if she intended to elicit such a visceral reaction to her words, but he decided to call her bluff. He went limp making her think he had yielded, before he flipped them, both over, pinned her body to the ground with his hips as her body cradled him and held her arms up near her head. Her pupils dilated and she licked her lips.

His voice pitched low, he finally spoke. “What I want is to feel you just like this, your body yielding beneath mine, naked. I want to hear you crying out my name.” Then he pushed his now hard length against her core through their respective clothing.

As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew he should have kept them in. She looked positively terrified. Then she pushed him off of her, ran and mounted her horse and left him in the field leaving her skirts and weapons behind. 

He stared after her both achingly hard and undeniably confused.


	4. A talk and a truce

That evening Athos left Mirabelle’s things in front of her door and knocked before retreating to his own room. He heard her door open and her things being collected before the door shut and locked again. He wanted to talk to her... to apologize, or explain himself, but he knew tonight wasn’t the night. For 3 more days she did a remarkable job avoiding him. He nearly saw her several times but she was quick...too quick. He realized he was brooding a little bit and didn’t understand. He had others to train with, why did he miss training with Mirabelle?

On the 4th night, Athos was sitting alone in the tavern, as it was nearly time to close. The proprietor knew him and his odd hours with the Musketeers, thus she often had a plate warming for him and a table by the fire. He heard the tavern door open and saw as Mirabelle made her way to the stairs. She caught his eye and stopped. Then she took a deep breath and walked to the table. 

“May I?” she asked as she gestured to the open chair. Athos nodded. 

“Good evening, my lady…” he started before she cut him off.

“Don’t ‘my lady’ me. You know my name is Mirabelle and you never hesitated calling me so before. Don’t you dare change it now.” she said, anger coloring her voice. He nodded again.

She sat heavily and looked at him. 

“I am sorry Athos. For my behavior just now, and especially for my behavior in the field. I am afraid I was...unkind. I am sorry for our...misunderstanding.” Ah, so that was it. She wanted to paint this as simply a misunderstanding. Alright, he’ll bite.

“Yes, I believe there was a ‘misunderstanding’. Without reliving the entire encounter, I do believe you led me to think there was...more there than there was? I know we both felt something? No, I am certain of it. The words you uttered just before the um...misunderstanding were bold. Bold enough for me to believe a suggestion such as mine would not have upset you. I expected a rejection possibly, but not an abandonment. Care to explain?” He stopped speaking and looked at her expectantly.  
She looked at the table for a few minutes, fumbling with her own hands. Then she looked up at him and spoke.

“Once again, I apologize. I will not be so bold again. I do not know what came over me. I do wish to continue our training, if you could see fit to forgive me. I do believe I was improving under your guidance and I also think you were learning a bit of hand-to-hand combat from me. I do not want to give that up.” then she smiled a small smile.

He leaned back in his chair and regarded her. He had truly enjoyed their sparring and had grown fond of her. Fond of her? Why did that word float before his eyes. He cleared his throat. 

“I, too, enjoyed our time working together. I would like to continue. I will also be more careful and will certainly not make any assumptions. I have a great regard for you and your skills and would like to see them continue to flourish.” He finished.

This time her smile could be called radiant. She looked so happy and relieved, and her eyes shone with it. They made plans for the next afternoon and said their goodnights. That evening as Athos laid in his own bed hearing her move about, he gave himself a pep talk. 

“What you feel for her is respect and warm regard. Nothing more. The...um...reaction to her proximity was only natural, I am but a man. But I will conquer this.” Something niggled in his brain however. 

Could this be conquered?


	5. A new beginning

The next afternoon they met, but were both a bit tentative and cautious. He suggested target practice with their pistols, and was pleased to see her equipped with her own powder and bullets. She was quick to load her pistol and her aim was sure and true. He showed her a few techniques and offered some suggestions. She took his guidance well and by the end of the next hour, her shot was confident and nearly dead on.

The following day they met again, early in the morning. The musketeers were enjoying quite a bit of quiet in the city as the king and queen had retired to their vacation home for a month. This time it started with knives, but just as before, they found a way to strip one another of weapons and began to grapple. At first she was pulling her punches, never using her full body weight to hold him down as she had in the past. She had always been light but very strong and knew how to use her body to pin his. This time, she was too careful and was easily dislodged and pinned. He, too, was careful not to put any part of his body anywhere too close to any part of hers that would be considered unseemly. They had probably touched each other on nearly every inch of their bodies before, save the more intimate areas, but now they worked especially hard to keep those apart. 

Athos stood and shook his head in frustration. This was pointless. They, neither of them, were going to progress together if they couldn’t get past this and truly put their heads back in this game. He suggested they stop for the day. She was disappointed, but could see it was not worth arguing. She, too, had felt their reluctance to fully engage one another. They parted that night without making any more plans.

It had been 4 days since Mirabelle had seen Athos. He had left his rooms on Monday laden with a satchel filled with supplies. She figured he must be heading out of town on another campaign. She spent that time reading, training alone, and riding. And thinking of him. God help her, she couldn’t stop. This was unacceptable, she told herself. She was acting like a fool. She was determined to behave as just friends who trained together henceforth. That, of course, went out the window the very next time she saw him. He must have stopped at a bathhouse on his way home from the garrison, his hair wet, his shirt damp and clinging to his chest, and his skin clean and scented. He was devastatingly handsome. She gasped just as he passed her in the hallway down to the tavern. He heard her gasp certainly, but did nothing but stop and address her.

“May I join you?” he asked. “I have yet to eat and I am starving.” She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She nodded mutely and went to secure a table. He put away his things and joined her a few minutes later. They enjoyed a meal together and a bottle of wine. He spoke of his adventures as a musketeer and his friendship with Porthos, Aramis and D’Artagnan. She laughed at the stories he told of them and the trouble they often found themselves in. As the wine poured, his tongue loosened. He spoke of his childhood with his brother, and told her about his ex-wife and how he had renounced his title and given up his lands. This explained the sadness his eyes often reflected and his quiet attitude. She reached for his hand, but he pulled it back. 

“No need to pity me. I am perfectly content in the life I have now, with my work and my friends. And now I consider you one of them. For that I am grateful.” He said then glanced around a little embarrassed. She spoke.

“Athos, your friendship has meant everything to me. I came here to Paris alone, searching for something. Some meaning, some skills perhaps, a chance to learn and grow. You have accepted me as a training partner and have taught me a great deal. I am also grateful. For you.” Then he looked in her eyes and smiled a small smile. She knew he did not open up or offer a smile often, and it warmed her to the core.

That night, they both struggled as they lay in their beds, separated by only a few walls. Neither comfortable taking another step towards one another.


	6. A time to yield

A few days later they found themselves in what they now considered their field. The summer had brought out some lovely small flowers and the air was warm and fragrant. They arrived early in the morning knowing the day would grow hotter. She removed her skirts, and weapons belt and squared up, standing before him in her leathers, a blue blouse and a black corset. He stopped to admire her (Stop it! He told himself) but then couldn’t help but laugh a little at her eagerness and removed his own weapons before engaging. Then they started. The uneasiness between them had dissipated and they were fully engaged in their sparring. They grappled a bit, neither able to take the other down. Her hair which had been pulled back in a ribbon escaped its confines as usual and shone like copper around her face. Her skin was tinted pink from the exercise and her breath was coming faster. Oh she was lovely.

He enjoyed looking at her for just a moment before grabbing her around the middle and trying to pin her. She wasn’t having it. They rolled over a few times before she ended up beneath him again, laughing in defeat. He pinned her easily with his hips pressed to hers and his hands holding her arms. She struggled under him, bucking her hips. Her legs spread slightly and he used his advantage to nestle between her thighs, assuming, of course that he would be able to contain her more. She continued to squirm against him and to his horror, but not to his surprise, he found himself quite aroused. She didn’t seem to notice at first fighting to shake him free. 

“Do you yield?” he asked her, hoping she would so he could move away from her heat. He couldn’t help but think she fit absolutely perfectly beneath him. She looked up at him defiantly. “No, I do not yield. I will prevail.” Then Mirabelle struggled even more in his arms. Oh this was torture of the acutest kind. She was gasping now, and moving her hips against his. Her eyes were burning with pent up passion. Then suddenly she became aware of their current situation. Her legs were spread around his hips, her ankles crossed behind his back. Her corset had fallen away and her blouse had pulled free of her leathers and had ridden up to expose her softly muscled stomach. And she could feel him. God, could she feel him. He was hard as steel against her core, his own breath coming in gasps each time she moved. She shouldn’t have tested this theory, but she pushed up against him again and he closed his eyes and groaned. 

“Please yield, Mirabelle. I need you to yield.” He gritted out through clenched teeth. 

She stopped moving. “Open your eyes, Athos. Please. I yield.” 

When he looked at her, he felt her body relax under his. What was she yielding exactly? He told himself to get up. He told himself to stop. He told himself to roll off of her. He did none of those things. Instead he let go of her hands, wrapped one arm around the now bared skin of her torso and caught her lips in a searing kiss. Oh, what bliss. Her mouth was hot beneath his, her lips soft. When he licked the seam of her lips she moaned and opened up to him. His tongue swept across hers. He couldn’t get enough of her taste. He kissed her how he fought her--hard and full of passion. She was moaning against his mouth. 

He dropped his free hand to her stomach and then ran it upwards across her abdomen to her breast. He cupped it in his hand, feeling her silky skin and her hardened nipple against his palm. He kissed his way down her neck and was working her blouse open when she put her hands on his chest. He had to taste her, had to feel her breast with his mouth. 

“Wait!” she said breathlessly. “Please Athos, just wait.” He was confused and a little worried. What had he done this time? 

“What is it?” he asked her, voice edged with frustration. He would stop, he knew, but why this time? “I know you feel something Mira. I know you feel my want for you. Your body is screaming for my hands, my mouth, my…” she gasped and he stopped speaking. She turned her head away from him.

“It’s just that….” she stopped. “Well, I just have never…” She tried again. “I have never done this. I have never been with a man. I will disappoint you, surely.” He froze above her and she was silent. What a fool he had been! She was educated, clever, well-spoken, confident and a natural fighter. Of course he had assumed she was worldly in the ways of love. He had planned to take her right there in this field. He was stunned--how could he not know? And he was a little disgusted with the way his body shuddered when she told him of her innocence. He rolled off of her, sat up and turned his back to her, collecting his thoughts. She missed the feel of him immediately. She wasn’t trying to stop him, just...slow him down? She wanted him to know but now she regretted it. She kneeled behind him and put her hands on his shoulders.

“I am so sorry Athos. I didn’t want to stop. I wanted to be with you. I still want to, God how I want to. I just thought...well...that you should know…about me.” Then she dropped her hands, stood and started to collect her things. He stood as well and took her skirts from her hands and dropped them to the ground again.

“I want you more than I can say, Mira. I would take you gladly right now in this field if not for what you just told me. But I will not have you this way. Not your first time. You deserve to be treated like a queen and I plan to do so. Now is not the time and this is not the place. Please come back to the city with me.” Her eyes filled with tears and she nodded. Then she collected her things, mounted her horse as he mounted his and they made their way back to Paris.


	7. The fruits of her labor

The ride back had been eerily quiet. Athos rode slightly behind Mirabelle on her right and when she took chances to glance at him, his eyes were fixed on her. It was both erotic and unsettling. She could not make out his expression. When they left their horses to be tended and walked together towards their rooms, her stomach clenched. She wanted him so very much, but she was nervous. Actually, she was downright terrified. When they reached her door, she gestured for him to enter. He did...but only by about 1 foot. He closed the door and leaned against it. Then he regarded her. She felt nearly naked under his gaze. Finally, he spoke.

“Now that our minds are less...clouded by passion, cooler heads must prevail.” He started. Her stomach dropped and her eyes searched his for rejection.

“Athos…” she started walking towards him, before he raised his hand to stop her. She stopped.

“The extraordinary gift you have offered me, and one I would dearly love to take, can only be given once. I am...fond of you. More so than I am ready to admit to myself. For me, I am certain there would never be a single regret. For you, however, there may be and that would break my heart. This is taking every ounce of my self control, trust me. I want nothing more than to take you to that bed and make you forget everything. However, the wisest thing to do now is to give you time to reflect. To make sure that this is a gift you want to give and give to me.” He finished. 

Before she could stop him, he pulled her door open, disappeared down the hall to his own room, then slammed and locked the door.

She was ...confused. She was still aroused and eager to continue where they had left off, but she was also grateful--incredibly touched that he would give her this chance to reconsider. Give her a chance to keep this gift to herself to bestow upon someone else. She sat on her bed and wept, though she did not know whether it was with relief, with joy, or with sadness.

The next day he knocked on her door. She opened it wondering if he decided they’d waited long enough. Instead he smiled, saying “Ah, good, you are dressed! Are you wearing your fighting attire? I just got back from the garrison. Having explained my frequent absences lately to my captain and fellow musketeers, they want to meet you. My captain is especially keen on seeing you spar. Are you ready?” 

She stood stunned in the doorway.

“But why?” she asked quietly. 

“When I told him of your hand-to-hand combat techniques, he was...desirous to see them in action. I could not do the explanation justice. Please, just come.” He added, quietly.

She nodded, grabbed her weapons belt and followed him out the door. The walk to the garrison was short, and to help her relax, he walked next to her chatting about the goings on in the city. 

“Ah look! Apples! It’s early for apples. We don’t usually see them until late summer or fall. I wonder if there was an early harvest! They are probably too tart, I would expect.” He prattled on. And she was so grateful for his distraction.

They arrived at the garrison and the musketeers and captain assembled. First, she was introduced formally by Athos to his captain and friends. They were exactly as described and she felt she already knew them. She smiled at them warmly and talked to each one for a moment or two. They liked her immediately. She was clever and kind, and VERY easy on the eyes. They were eager to see why Athos had brought her here.

Athos then gestured her over to him. “Alright Mira, let’s start with hand-to-hand combat. Do not pull your punches, use all of your tricks, and impress my friends. I dearly want to see their faces when they see you in action.” He smiled warmly down at her. Then he backed up and bowed. She bowed in return, turned away, removed her skirts and her weapons belt and stood in her supple leathers, tight fitting blouse and black corset. She was a vision, and a spark of jealousy flared into a flame when he heard the murmurs of appreciation from the assembled men. 

He didn’t have time to worry about the sudden spike of jealousy, however, as she crouched and then lunged, first spinning him, then sweeping his legs. She was about to kneel on his back when he rolled away, catching her leg and pulling her down. He made to pin her when she used her strong legs to push him away and then jumped to standing, then back into a crouch. 

The men cheered this impressive display of strategy and agility. He lunged again and she was ready. She spun away and delivered an impressive high kick. He was ready though and caught her leg. She quickly adjusted and turned her body in such a way to bring him down. She had him pinned now to the hoots and hollers of the crowd, but he would not yield. He rolled her over a few times before he pinned her to the training ground. She managed to dislodge him and they continued their volleys and parries for a bit. He grabbed her once more and rolled her under him. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed, her chest heaving. He thought she had never looked so delicious. She too had some tricks left and raised her legs to around his shoulders and pulled him back with her legs until she could climb over him laughing. She had his shoulders pinned with her knees, and her arm across his throat. He tapped out, and then stood gasping as the men around them crowded her and cheered.

The captain approached. “Your skills in combat are remarkable. May I have a word in my office? Athos, please join us.” Then they walked side by side up the stairs.

“Where did you learn to fight like that? Your skill and agility is admirable.” She gave him a brief explanation of her training. “Have you considered employment here in Paris? I would like to test out your strength in the area of instruction. I have several young apprentices who are good with a sword, but lack the skills for hand to hand combat. Porthos has been my teacher there, but he is often busy with campaigns. Would you consider working for the musketeers?” She was stunned silent. She turned to look at Athos, who stood beside her beaming with pride.

“I...think yes. I would like that. Very much. Thank you captain.” She stammered. The captain smiled at her warmly. The strength she displayed in the training yard vs. her shyness now was an attractive juxtaposition. He reached out and shook her hand then he stepped out of the office just as she threw herself into Athos’ arms in a tight embrace. The last thing they heard was a surprised chuckle from the captain.


	8. A time to intervene

Mirabelle laid back in the bath she had ordered to her rooms with the money she had earned this week. The water was clean and warm and was worth the cost. She was exhausted, sore, bruised and happier than she believed she had ever been in her life. She earned this bath. She trained the new recruits all day, sparring, showing fighting techniques, teaching them to defend themselves when they had no weapons, and how to disarm someone with a weapon. At first the recruits were too careful with her, too...aware she was a woman. That quickly changed when she knocked them on their backs and hence some sense into their heads.

Porthos had taken to working alongside her with the full musketeers. Often they would all stop and watch her, and she discovered that Porthos would study her technique quite carefully, listening to her instructions. In his next lesson, he often employed what he learned. Then he would flash her a handsome smile and wink. She loved knowing that she was such an asset to the recruits and other musketeers alike.

She and Athos thought they were so clever--so sly. They were not. They were certain that they maintained cool indifference and professionalism whilst around each other at the garrison. You only had to watch them to see the depth of their connection. Their eyes always found each other as they trained, their bodies would lean towards one another at meals, and there were always (not so) secret smiles that passed between them. The captain and his friends could not be happier for Athos. He had been in pain for far too long. Too afraid to open up and too afraid of affection. She was changing him. He was still a brilliant soldier--shrewd, cunning and strong, but she opened his heart to deeper connections with his fellow musketeers and with her. 

Each evening, they would walk back to their rooms and her stomach would clench. Was tonight the night he would make good on his promise to take her? But each night, they would simply share a meal if they had not already at the garrison, drink a glass or two of wine, and part at her door with a simple kiss. Occasionally she would fist her hands in his shirt and pull him down hard against her lips. On these occasions he would yield to her desire, kissing her as a man starved. If, however, he thought their passions were running away with them, which they often were, he would gently push her away from him, smile, shake his head and leave her gasping at the door. She did not know why he hesitated.

On the evening of her bath, Athos decided to stay late with his friends and drink at a tavern. They asked him how he and Mirabelle had met, and how they began their training and subsequent friendship. He told them everything, starting from when she moved in and he would watch her in the tavern or hallways through the encounter with the drunkards, to their time in the fields. His eyes softened as he spoke of her. He called her his friend, but his friends suspected there to be much more between them. The wine was flowing and they began to tease him.

“So Athos! Was it just training you did in that field, or was there more? Did rolling around in the fragrant grass with her start an entirely different and more pleasurable tussle?” Aramis asked boldly. Athos glanced at his friends and shook his head affectionately. 

“Ah well. A gentleman does not kiss and tell.” He said and lifted his cup for another swallow of wine. 

“Ah, but the way you look at one another, it is clear you are secretly lovers!” D’Artagnan prodded. Athos grew tired of the teasing and decided the truth would be the only thing to stop them in their lurid tracks.

“To be quite honest, we have done nothing more than share a kiss.” Athos started. His friends stopped talking immediately in surprise. 

“Just a kiss?” Porthos asked. Athos realized he should stop talking, but he was in too deep. 

“Well, a few kisses is more accurate. Nothing more. You see, she hasn’t...well, she’s never…” he stopped and took a breath. “She’s a maid. I do not want to sully her and feel as though she deserves someone better than I.” He finished, staring into the depths of his cups. 

His friends were suddenly serious and sad for him. 

“There is no better man than you, Athos.” D’Artagnan said, voice filled with love and conviction. Porthos nodded and chimed in. 

“Yea, brother. You only have to look at her to see she would give herself to you willingly. I would bet you are the one standing in the way of your own happiness.” 

Athos grew quiet--contemplative. His friends watched him as he retreated into his own head, trying to make sense of his feelings. 

Aramis, however, was forming a plan.


	9. A confession

The next day at the garrison, spirits were high, and soldiers were ready to spar. Mirabelle wore a red fitted blouse with brown leathers and boots. Her hair was pulled up in a red ribbon, tendrils loosely falling around her face. Her bath the night before was rejuvenating--her spirits were lifted and her heart was full. Each time she glanced at Athos, her face would break into a smile and her eyes would crinkle in mirth. She worked the recruits hard, but was extra playful this morning. She teased the young recruits to their delight, and would occasionally throw a barb at the musketeers. She felt so confident in herself and in her skills this morning, she was practically flirting. She felt so alive. 

Athos noticed her demeanor this morning. He was both delighted and jealous. All of the recruits and fellow musketeers were getting in on the fun and games and flirted right back with their fellow warrior. He loved to see the camaraderie, but ached to keep this side of her all to himself. Aramis could not be more pleased. This was setting his plan in motion in the most delightful of ways. They broke for lunch and everyone crowded around the long tables breaking bread and slicing cheese. Spirits were high and conversation flowed easily. Aramis then addressed her. 

“So, Mirabelle! You find yourself surrounded by musketeers all day every day. You must find us tiresome. And smelly.” He started as everyone laughed.

“Oh no, Aramis. I would wish to be no other place than here, with you all. This is my home now, I hope you feel I belong here as I do.” she said, her face flushed from happiness and the morning’s exertion. Aramis continued.

“Yes of course, what young lady wouldn’t like the attention of all of these young men! Must be flattering. Perhaps you will find a suitor!” He said, and laughed jovially. She was thrown by his line of questioning. He was affectionate and teasing, but she was getting uncomfortable with where this was headed. Although she knew she had kept her affections for Athos a secret (not really though), she did not want any of the men to pursue her. She looked down at her plate. Aramis threw his last volley, knowing it would land true. 

“Well, perhaps I will throw my hat in the ring! You are truly worth fighting for.” He said with a a lascivious smile and a wink.

At once Athos was on his feet. Aramis rose as well as they squared off across the table. Athos did not know what Aramis was playing at, but he had crossed a line. Athos spoke freely, unable to stop the words from spilling from his lips.

“How dare you speak to her thus, Aramis. Especially after I shared my feelings for her with you last evening!” Everyone had stopped talking and the captain, hearing the commotion, walked from his office and stood above them. Athos took no notice, he was too fired up to care.

“I suggest you back off Aramis, or I will make you. You will not speak to the woman I love in such a manner!” Then Athos’ mouth closed hard, his eyes widened, and he dropped back to the bench in shock. He loved her. He truly did. The thought of Aramis, or any other man pressing their suit was untenable--not to be borne. He finally worked up the courage to look at Mirabelle, the woman he loved. 

“Mira…” he started, before the captain called down to them. 

“Mirabelle and Athos. My office. Now.” They would not get a chance to discuss this now, as they made their way towards the steps. 

As Athos headed towards the stairs, just 2 steps behind Mirabelle, Aramis caught his arm. Aramis flashed him his brilliant trademark smile and winked. Realization dawned on Athos’ face--Aramis knew exactly what he was doing the entire time. He had been well played. Athos did not know whether he should punch his friend or embrace him. He decided he would punch him. Just not right now.

Athos and Mirabelle stood before Treville’s desk as he regarded them openly. Treville had known all along of their feelings for one another and was happy to allow them to continue as long as they were discreet at the garrison and performed their duties honorably. This outburst, however long overdue, was the perfect catalyst to lay the ground rules. 

“Athos, you are my best soldier and lead your fellow musketeers with honor. I am pleased with how you’ve matured and grown here in our regiment. Mirabelle, although your time here so far has been brief, I have great respect for you and admire your skills. I believe you could have a long and happy career here with the musketeers and I would be pleased to see you fight alongside them one day.” Athos was about to protest but the captain shook his head to stop him.

“As I was saying. Mirabelle, you are an asset here and if you want to fight someday, I will not stop you.” Then Treville moved to the more sensitive subject. “You two seem to think your feelings for one another are a secret. You could, neither of you, be more wrong. All I ask is that you stay professional at the garrison and attend to your duties with care and attention.” Treville finished. Athos took this opportunity to speak. 

“Captain, I wish I could stop you from allowing Mirabelle to fight, as the thought of her in danger causes me pain. But she is not mine to control or to own, she never will be. She is not now, nor will she ever be someone’s property. I have been too careful with my feelings, too guarded. I have not been open with you, my fellow musketeers and especially not with her.” He turned to Mirabelle and spoke in earnest.

“Mira, I am sorry I could not say so before, but I was a fool and a coward. I do love you, so very deeply. I want to train with you and work with you as long as you will have me. If you choose to, I would also proudly fight by your side.” 

She looked at the floor. Then he lifted her chin, searching her eyes for her reply. Mira smiled up at him and nodded once, tears staining her cheeks. It was all he needed before leaning down to capture her lips in a kiss. The captain smiled and gave them this moment. Then Athos pulled back and without looking away from Mirabelle he spoke. “Captain, in 2 days time, I am requesting 5 days leave on both of our behalf. Please send someone ahead to my country home to prepare for our arrival. I will leave you the address.” Then he took her hand and walked out of the office, not caring what the others might think.

He need not have worried. All they could hear as they walked down the stairs hand-in-hand were the cheers of their friends and fellow soldiers. 

When they returned to their rooms that night, he pulled her in for a kiss. She expected he would lead her to his bed or hers. He did not. Instead he leaned his forehead against hers and spoke. 

“Although I gave up my estate and my lands, I still have a small property outside of Paris. It belonged to my mother’s father and was left to me on his passing. It is small but always provides me peace in my time of need. I want to bring you there, to share it with you.” Mirabelle leaned up and kissed him softly, then she responded. 

“Athos, you have brought so much joy to my life. I never thought I would have a life as full as this one. I love you, Athos, with all that I am.” Then she smiled, kissed him once more and wished him goodnight.


	10. A confirmation of love

2 days later, they rode out of the garrison together, heading out of Paris on leave. Their friends teased them mercilessly, but they could not bring themselves to care. The captain had sent a recruit ahead to engage a woman to open the house, tidy up, freshen the linens and stock the larder. There was fresh bread, good cheeses, spicy cured meat, different fruits, and nuts. Their friends gifted them several bottles of nice wine to enjoy. They would have very little reason to leave. 

They arrived by midday and spent the afternoon exploring the house and enjoying the countryside. Summer was turning to fall and the air was growing colder. That evening, they shared a simple meal in front of a fire Athos built to warm the house. He held her, his chest pressed to her back, as they talked late into the night, sharing stories of their childhoods and families. Then their words were done, nothing else was left to say. He stood and held his hand out to her. She took it and he leaned down for a chaste kiss. 

“I am ready Athos. Please take me to bed.” she told him, her voice full of promise. He led her down the hall to a large, well appointed and comfortable bedroom. She excused herself to an adjoining chamber to prepare for bed. She pulled the ribbons from her hair, let it cascade in loose curls over her shoulders and down her back. She undressed and used the pitcher of water to wash. From her bags she pulled a lovely white shift. It was sheer and bordered with lace with silk laces at the shoulders. She took a deep breath and then walked into the bedchamber.

Athos was lying on the bed trying to read a book. He had read the same sentence 10 times at least. He heard the door open and watched as she walked in. She was truly a vision. She stopped in front of the fireplace as he watched her. This caused her to be backlit and her gown to become translucent. He could make out each and every lovely curve of her body. His mouth went completely dry and he tried to swallow. He was torn between admiring her, or throwing her on the bed and ravaging her. He decided on something between the two.

Athos stood and approached her. He had removed all of his outer garments and stood only in his breeches and a white shirt. He spoke, his voice pitched low.

“You are the loveliest woman I have ever seen.” he said just as he pulled her into a kiss that started gently, but quickly grew ardent. There was nothing stopping him now. No pulling away with a shake of his head--she was his. She opened her mouth under his and he groaned. His tongue slipped between her lips and found hers. She was inexperienced but eager to learn. The longer they kissed, the more confident she became. She could not get enough of his mouth, he tasted of spices and wine. 

Athos turned Mirabelle and walked her backwards to the bed. Then he knelt on the covers and pulled her up to kneel in front of him. There he continued his kisses, first focusing on her lovely mouth, swollen now with their passion, and then turning her face so he could run his lips and tongue down the side of her neck. She was lost. When his mouth reached her collar bones, she gasped. He chuckled and bit down, causing her to moan and arch. He was delighted to see that although she had little experience here, her body’s natural passion was genuine and bold. 

Athos wanted, no...he needed more. He untied the laces at her shoulders and her shift fell to her hips. Her first instinct was to cover up her nakedness. He shook his head and gently took her wrists in his hands. He pulled them away from her chest, murmuring softly “Please do not cover yourself. You are lovely and perfect. Let me see you, my darling Mira.” Then he leaned back and looked at her. She had never been admired so frankly, and never while she was bare. She felt stripped to her core. His pupils were blown, his eyes filled with fire. 

Athos growled and pushed her gently to lay on her back. Suddenly he could not get enough. His mouth and his hands covered her lovely breasts, caressing, sucking and gently biting her nipples pulling from her body the loveliest gasps and moans. Her hands were not idle. She managed to unlace the front of his shirt and helped him pull it over his head. She needed to see him. To his dismay, she pushed him away from her to really look at him for the first time. Her eyes traveled from his face over his muscled chest, down over his taut stomach. He knelt up again, allowing her to truly see him. He was perfect. He was strong, muscles well defined, his body marked here and here with the evidence of previous battles. Her eyes continued to drift downwards past the trail of hair that led to the laces of his breeches and continued lower. Then they stopped and she gasped. The evidence of his arousal was now pressed hard and ready against the laces of his breeches. She could tell he was both long and thick. Her eyes flicked back up to his reflecting both fear and want...mostly fear. He smiled softly and pulled her against him again. 

“Do not worry, my love. I will take care of you, I promise.” he murmured. She buried her head into his neck and spoke quietly.

“Well, I am sure you mean well but ..um...that...well, *that* will never fit anywhere inside of my body.” He laughed quietly into her hair. 

“My darling, when the time comes, you will find that I will fit perfectly. If, however, you are not certain you’d like to try, we can stop here and now. Please just say the word.” Her heart filled with affection for this perfect man who clearly wanted her, but was willing to put his own desire aside if only to bring her comfort. 

“No, my Athos. I have wanted this, wanted you far too long now. I trust you.” She told him.

He encouraged her to lie back against the pillows, then he tugged the fabric bunched at her hips down and away from her body. He knelt at her side, taking his fill of her lovely skin and curves. She was well muscled as he suspected, and beautifully formed. Her breasts were full, her nipples swollen. Her stomach was muscled and taut. Her waist was small but then flared into fuller hips and well formed thighs. She was, in a word, perfect. He wanted to taste and touch every inch of her. Taste her, especially. Before he could start, however, he heard her speak and boldly so. 

“Now you, my Athos. I want to see all of you.” He reached for the laces of his breeches. “No, please. Let me Athos.” He smiled and let his hands fall to his side. She turned her body towards him and began to work on the leather ties, her brow creased in concentration. She made short work of it, then ran her hands along the waist to push them down over his hips. The position they were in made this too hard for her, so he took over to slide down his breeches, then off his legs completely. Once again, she admired him, this time completely bared to her. She had been right. He was thick, long, and hard. She was still very doubtful he would fit. She tentatively reached out her hand. 

“I don’t know what to do Athos. Please show me what to do.” just as her hand wrapped around his shaft. His eyes closed and he groaned. Her hand felt hot, wonderful and he had imagined this too many times to count.

“Like this.” he responded, covering her small hand with his. He showed her how to stroke him, how to hold him, how to twist her hand near the tip, and how to use his own lubrication to ease the way. Their position was uncomfortable and made it difficult to continue.

“Athos, darling, please lie down.” He moved to lay beside her as she knelt next to his hips. She was looking at him openly now, gone was the fear and shyness, now replaced with eagerness. She stroked him, watching and listening to his moans and gasps, gauging what he liked most. Then to his surprise and absolute delight, she leaned over and kissed the tip of his shaft. He groaned, his hips pushing off the bed. She giggled, then leaned down again, licking him softly around the crown, tasting him on her tongue. She stopped and looked up at him through her dark lashes. 

“Tell me what you want my darling.” she asked. 

“Take me in your mouth, my love. Love me with your tongue and lips. Let me feel you.” she did not hesitate. 

He was completely lost. Her mouth was hot and eager, her small hand wrapped around the base, her curls tickling his stomach and thighs. She experimented with a few things until she found a rhythm and depth that pleased him well. It felt so good, so right, he knew he would never last if she continued. 

“Mira, darling, you must stop.” She did not, loving the sounds he was making and the feel of his hips as they thrust gently upwards. It was becoming too much for him and he knew his completion was nearer than he hoped. 

“Mira, please. I don’t want to finish like this. Not this, our first time together.” She understood and reluctantly pulled her mouth away from him. Then he spoke.

“It’s your turn.” that’s all it took for her insides to liquify. 

He gently moved her to lay down, then he took her lips in another kiss. From there, he kissed down her neck to her chest, paying attention to the peaks of each breast, enjoying hearing her gasps and moans as he went. Then he kissed down her stomach to the curls at the apex of her body. Instead of continuing downward, he moved to the side and licked the hollow of each of her hips. She was moaning, now, writhing her hips against the bed. 

“Open up for me, my darling.” he encouraged. Her thighs fell open and he knelt between her knees, his eyes drinking their fill. She was embarrassed by his frank and open stare, and tried to close her legs while closing her eyes and turning her head. 

“No, Mira. Let me see you. You are so beautiful.” as he ran his hands along her thighs. He cupped her gently with one hand and felt her arousal on his palm. He spent a few minutes exploring her gently with his finger tips, learning her. Suddenly, he leaned down and slid his tongue through her folds. Her body shuddered hard, her back arched off the bed. He chuckled against her core and then used his hands to gently work her body back down to the bed. She was slick and tasted of heaven. She could not keep still. Her body writhed against his mouth and he reveled in it. He simply could not get enough of her. He alternated between long licks and gentle thrusts of his tongue and worked her until he could feel her losing control. 

“Athos.” She cried. “Athos, please!” begging for what she did not know. He moved up slightly and sucked on her most sensitive part until she fell to pieces. Her body arched, her muscles rigid, and she crested. He kept sucking and licking gently until her shaking stopped and she was pulling away from his mouth. 

“Stop please, Athos. I can’t…” He moved his body up alongside her and let her catch her breath. This was a massive feat in itself as he had never been more aroused, more ready to take someone. Finally she turned to him, reached for his length and whispered, “Athos, I want you. I am ready. Please take me, please make me yours.” 

He closed his eyes and groaned at her words, before rolling on top of her, propping himself up on his hands while he looked into her lovely eyes. He kissed her once, pulled back and spoke. 

“Mira, are you certain?” he asked quietly. 

Her only response was to push her hips up so her slick core could brush his length, and kiss him hard. That was all it took. He took himself in hand and ran the tip along her folds. 

“Please tell me if I am hurting you and I will slow down or stop.” She nodded, knowing he would never hurt her-at least not intentionally. Then he slowly breached her body. She gasped and arched, already feeling full and yet he was not yet halfway in. She was scared, but eager. She grabbed his hips and tried to pull him all the way into her, but he held himself back.

“Patience my darling, I do not wish to hurt you.” She whined a little and he smiled. Her body was yielding to him, but she was still so tight, which was nearly his undoing. It took everything he had not to bury himself in her completely. He pulled back and thrust back in partway several times, testing and teasing. He was allowing her time to adjust to his girth, but this would surely be the death him. She moaned and whispered "please, please, please...." over and over again. Finally, when he thought she was ready, he took her lips in a searing kiss and buried himself completely. Her body arched off the bed and then stilled and she gasped against his mouth. He stopped moving and spoke quietly against her temple.

“It’s alright love. It's alright. The pain will ease soon. The worst is over, I promise. You are doing so well, darling. You feel so good beneath me. You feel absolutely perfect.” He murmured, until he could feel her relax around him. Then he began to kiss her again, and his hips started to move. It was uncomfortable at first and she couldn’t understand why anyone would want to do this, especially more than once in their lives. She was actually hoping he would just finish quickly and the ache would stop. Slowly though, she stopped wishing for him to stop. The pain was being replaced first by just an odd fullness and then the beginnings of pleasure. He moved slowly and gently in her, but as she began to respond to his thrusts, he sped up. He knew he would not last, having wanted this, wanted her for so long. He was disciplined, however, and knew he must hold back lest he cause her unnecessary pain. 

"Oh!" she cried, her brows creasing in concentration. Her walls were gripping him like a vice and he was lost. He knew it would not be long now and he wanted her to find pleasure with him. He reached down between their bodies to her core and used his finger tips to coax another climax from her body, rubbing her most sensitive spot. He could feel her clenching around him and then she was crying out his name, her body arching into his. That was all it took before he crested, her name on his lips, his eyes tightly clenched, riding out pleasure he had denied himself for much much too long. He stayed within her walls, wrapping his arms around her and murmuring tenderly until she stopped trembling. Then he gently pulled himself from her and lay by her side. She rolled towards him, rested her head on his shoulder, wrapped her arm over his chest and drifted into sleep. The last thing he thought before joining her was that he would never again leave her side.

In the morning he woke to an empty bed. His heart nearly broke. Then he saw her standing by the window, wearing only her lovely shift from the night before. He stood and joined her as she watched the sun rise over the grassy fields of his land. He wrapped his arms around her from behind and rested his chin on her shoulder. She leaned back against him with a sigh. All was well between them. He spoke.

“I am eager for the future we will build together in Paris, as friends, lovers and soldiers. But when we are ready, we will come back here and in those fields you see before you now, we will train our children to fight. Boys or girls, it does not matter. They will be musketeers.” He felt her tremble a little and saw a tear as it slid down her cheek. 

Then he smiled and kissed her temple. 

“Soon, my love.” he said, letting his promise fill her soul.


End file.
